


Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

by Angelike



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur's Reign, Flash Fiction, Humor, Jealous!Arthur, Kissing, M/M, POV Third Person, Podfic Welcome, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-03
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelike/pseuds/Angelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Subtly is wasted on Arthur. If Merlin wants Arthur to finally admit how he feels, he's going to need to take more drastic measures...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

“Is he looking?” Merlin whispers, hands coming up to grasp Lancelot’s shoulders, leaning in until he can feel the other man’s breath on his face and the hard warmth of his well-muscled body flush against his own. The intimacy is nice, pleasant even. What warms his blood, however, is not the man before him, but rather the thought of the ridiculously stubborn man who must surely be glaring their way. After Lancelot’s spectacular win in their match just moments before, there’s no way that incredulous expression could be directed anywhere else.

Still, Merlin hasn’t the courage to look for himself.

If he looks, he’ll surely wimp out.

“Oh, yes, we have his full attention,” Lancelot nods, expression alight with mischief. If Merlin were in any doubt about his plan’s chance for success, the suddenly violent clanging of armour and shrill cries for mercy when Lancelot finally closes the distance between them to press their lips together (soft and sweet and meaningless) puts his fears to rest. Giddy with success, Merlin winds his fingers in Lancelot’s hair and deepens the kiss with an exaggerated moan. Lancelot trembles against the desire to laugh and even Merlin can’t hide his wicked grin as their lips part.

The petrified line of knights still waiting for their bouts of “one-on-one training” with their king stare after the pair of them with blatant horror as they amble away, hand-in-hand and apparently off for a leisurely afternoon shag. Merlin tries to feel sorry for them, really he does, but fails miserably.

The glimpse he catches of Arthur scowling face, promising murder, before slipping into the courtyard is a welcome affirmation that he’s made the right decision. Morgana’s insistence that jealousy was the key to forcing Arthur’s hand had been spot on. There’s _no way_ Arthur is going to let _this_ pass.  Merlin gives Arthur a quarter of an hour before the silly man cuts practice short, tracks him down, and drags him back to the royal lair for a _real_ kiss and, hopefully, some buggery.  No more of that _oh, but it would be taking advantage for the king to take his subordinate to bed _nonsense!

“You’re a good man, Lancelot,” Merlin says, patting him on the arm. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Anytime, mate,” Lancelot replies with an easy smile, “though in the future let’s limit the favours to scenarios that aren’t potentially life-threatening, yeah? He’s going to _slaughter_ me the next time he gets me on the practice field.”

“In which case,” Merlin laughs, “I could always kiss your hurts better.”

“If you think that’s supposed to be comforting...”


End file.
